


as time goes by

by bucksnatalia, thefontbandit



Category: Marvel (Comics), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: #BuckyNat Week, 1940s, F/M, Time Travel, buckynat mini bang 2017, but bucky and nat get a nice date out of it, shield fucks up
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-23
Updated: 2017-03-23
Packaged: 2018-10-09 13:57:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10413717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bucksnatalia/pseuds/bucksnatalia, https://archiveofourown.org/users/thefontbandit/pseuds/thefontbandit
Summary: Natasha came to in a dirty alleyway, a discarded newspaper beside her. She groaned as she pushed herself to her knees, rubbing the back of her aching neck. How long she’d been knocked out, she had no idea, but she was relieved at least to see a car driving by on the road ahead of her – an old car, but a car nonetheless. At least she hadn’t been shot back to the time of the dinosaurs or anything.She reached for the newspaper, scanning it for the date.Her eyes widened when she found it; February, 1943.“Shit,” she said under her breath.SHIELD is once again messing with things it shouldn't be, and this time, it gets Natasha sucked back into the 1940s.At least her cute future boyfriend is there to show her around?For the 2017 Buckynat Mini-Bang.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Art by thefontbandit.

                Natasha frowned in her sleep. There was an awful sound – it couldn’t be her alarm, too early for that… maybe someone was being an idiot in the street? She had rolled over and hidden her face against James’s shoulder before she realized that the sound was actually her phone.

                “Baby,” James said, his voice a sleepy slur as he propped himself up on an elbow, “Your phone’s ringing.” She was only just rolling onto her back again when he finally reached over her to snatch the phone off of the end table and answer it with a sharp, “Hello? Do you know what time it is, Steve?”

                Natasha didn’t, and as Bucky pulled himself away from her again she sat up, rubbing wearily at her eyes and then squinting at the clock until the red glow revealed it was 3:52 in the morning. Their bedroom was still perfectly dark, aside from the light sneaking through the blinds from the street. She was vaguely paying attention to what was being said beside her – they needed them both to come in, Falcon had already been called, Hawkeye would be next. James made some sort of quip about waking up the Barton baby. She was already sitting at the edge of the bed, feeling around the cool hardwood floor with her bare feet and trying to work up the motivation to get dressed.

                “Are you serious?” James said, and she turned her head to look at him over her shoulder. “Why the hell would they be doing that?”

                Natasha’s brow furrowed.

                “Have they ever seen Back to the Future?” Bucky said angrily, and threw the covers off of himself, swinging his legs over the edge of the bed and fitting the phone between his cheek and his shoulder so that he could fumble around for his clothes. “Seriously, when will these people learn?”

                She stood at last, reaching for a hair tie on the end table and quickly tying her red locks up atop her head. Her tacsuit had been thrown haphazardly over the back of her desk chair the night before when James had been undressing her, and she wasted no time slipping out of her pajamas and back into it again. James was still telling Steve they’d be right over when she spun around, zipping it up and staring at him expectantly.

                He met her gaze as he hung up the phone. “Take a wild guess.”

                “SHIELD’s messing with time travel technology?” Natasha said flatly.

                Bucky threw a hand up triumphantly. “Ding ding ding, we have a winner.”

                “How’d Steve find out?”

                “I don’t know. Didn’t ask. Does it matter that much?” Bucky asked, pulling his trousers on. “Once again, they are messing with shit they shouldn’t be and we gotta step in and put a stop to it before they go too far.”

                “Maybe Hill has an excuse,” Natasha suggested, though she’d stopped putting more faith into SHIELD than it deserved when it turned out HYDRA had been there all along.

                “I’d love to hear it.”

                Natasha turned around as he began lacing up his boots to find her own. “Me, too.”

                With her shoes on, she stood and moved to where he was waiting by the door. Although he was completely alert, she could see the shadows under his eyes. She stood on her tiptoes to kiss his cheek, and he slipped his arm around her waist.

                “We’ll take a nap when we get back,” she said, smoothing out his shirt where it wrinkled around his shoulders. “First thing.”

                “Sounds wonderful,” said James in a low voice, dipping his head to kiss her.

                As they pulled apart and started towards the door, she tossed a glance over her shoulder and asked, “When did you watch Back to the Future?”

                “I was on my own in Europe for two years,” he said, opening the door for her, “What do you think I was doing?”

 

                The door slammed open and the scientists inside jumped in surprise.

                Given that it wasn’t even 5 in the morning, Natasha didn’t blame them. They probably weren’t expecting half of the Avengers to barge in so early in the morning.

                “What – what is going on here?” cried one of the scientists. He was wearing a pair of goggles, but he pushed them up onto the top of his head, which only made his wild head of hair seem worse.

                “I think we can ask you the same question,” Steve said flatly, “Why is SHIELD messing with time travel?”

                Behind the scientists was a large machine, about as tall as Natasha, with a series of flickering lights and buttons. The one who had spoken, who Natasha assumed was the man in charge, stepped defensively in front of it. “You shouldn’t be here,” he warned, “The machine has been malfunctioning. You all need to leave.”

                “We know all about the malfunctions,” Bucky said, “You’ve already lost one of your scientists somewhere in time. Do you even realize how fucked up that is?”

                “We are making every effort to find him,” the scientist said through gritted teeth, “But right now it’s too dangerous for you to be around it, so you have to leave –”

                “Listen to the man.”

                The group turned to see Director Hill standing at the door with her arms crossed. She was scowling at them, and looked just as tired as they did. “You don’t want to get involved in this.”

                “Well, you clearly aren’t putting a stop to it,” Sam said.

                “That’s because I ordered it,” said Hill.

                “Why?” Steve asked, furrowing his brow, “Why do you want to mess with time? What do you want to change?”

                “Who said we want to change anything?” Hill began, but the scientist interrupted her.

                “Think of all the good that could be achieved with the power a working time machine would possess!” he said, “We could do anything! Change anything!”

                Hill just shook her head. “We don’t want to change anything –”

                “So we’re supposed to believe this is just an innocent little science experiment?” Clint asked, “That you have no ulterior motive whatsoever? Yeah, I believe it.”

                Natasha stopped listening.

Her gaze was locked on the machine.

Around her, she could hear the others continue arguing – the head scientist had gotten himself into a shouting match with Captain America himself, which was never a wise endeavor, and Sam had taken to shutting down every defense Maria tried to make of the machine. Scientific progress was one thing, Natasha thought as she stared down the flickering machine, keenly aware of a high-pitched buzzing it emitted, but the ability to force oneself into another period of time altogether held too many potential dangers.

                “Winter Soldier,” said the scientist, “Think of the good _you_ could do with a machine like this!”

                Unable to believe her ears, Natasha’s attention was briefly diverted, turning to see if James was about to pummel the man for saying such a thing (or, if he wasn’t, if she could manage a shot at him before someone would try to stop her). A subtle rage had crossed over his features, but while he had chosen not to grace the scientist with a response, Steve withheld none of his fury.

                “You are way out of line,” Steve said, “You think we all wouldn’t love to go back and change some things? What’s done is done, we’ve got no business trying to mess with the past. There’s no telling what else could change, unintentionally.”

                “I hate to interrupt,” Natasha said, having looked back around in time to see that sparks had begun to fly out of the machine, “But we’ve got a bit of a problem over here.”

                The scientist gasped in horror and hurried over, but as he fiddled with all the different buttons and levers, Natasha could see he was getting absolutely nowhere, and they were all about to be zapped back in time if they didn’t get out of there.

                “Get back!” she yelled at last, and while the others obeyed immediately, the scientist remained in his position, desperately trying to shut the thing off.

                Why don’t these things ever just come with a plug?

                Darting forward, Natasha grabbed the scientist by the back of his lab coat and with all of her might tossed him aside. With a cry, he stumbled away, inevitably tripping over his own clumsy feet as he stared at his malfunctioning creation.

                She tried to turn, to jump out of the way, but a light erupted from the machine, accompanied by an agonizing, mechanical shriek. It encompassed the room, and Natasha could only raise her arms to protect her head as she was flung backwards by a blast of energy.

                In the back of her mind, she could swear she heard James shouting her name, but it sounded so distant, she must have only imagined it.

 

                When Bucky came to, he was lying on the hard floor of the lab with a pounding head and ringing ears. A groan slipped between his lips as he propped himself on his elbows, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment in an effort to ground himself. He stretched his jaw, paying attention to the way the ringing worsened. This headache wasn’t going away any time soon, that was for sure.

                A hand on his shoulder snapped him back to attention, and he opened his eyes to see Sam extending his other hand towards him. Bucky gratefully took it, allowing his friend to help him to his feet. It took another moment to catch what he was saying.

                “– and we’re gonna check the security footage of the room and the hallway. She might’ve run out or something, we don’t have to assume the worst, yet –”

                “What are you talking about?” Bucky asked, but looking around he was able to put the pieces together without an answer. “Where’s Nat?”

                Behind Sam, Steve was frowning. “We don’t know. But we’ve got people searching the building –”

                “She was the closest to that –” Bucky thrust an accusatory finger in the direction of the machine, which was smoking enough that he was surprised the alarms hadn’t gone off. “ – when it went off. I think we all know exactly what happened to her.”

                “Bucky, we have to check the building first, just to make sure –” Steve began.

                Bucky cut him off, crossing the room to where the scientist responsible was still on the floor, reaching around for his glasses, which must have fallen from his face during the blast. He managed to get a grip on them when Bucky grabbed a fistful of his lab coat, unceremoniously dragging him to his feet and slammed him back against the closest wall.

                Their faces were inches apart, and it made the other man noticeably uncomfortable. “Ow,” he said, trying to push Bucky off of him. “Put me down –”

                “Where is she?” Bucky yelled.

                “I don’t know –”

                “Where is she?” he said again, punctuating the question by slamming the scientist’s shoulders back against the wall once more.

                “She could be anywhere!” the scientist said, lifting his hands to block his face.

Bucky seemed to realize what he was doing all at once and quickly dropped him, but the rage was clear in his face. “You son of a bitch.”

“She shouldn’t have come near the machine,” the scientist said, brushing himself off with one hand while he settled his glasses back on with the other, “There was no stopping it.”

“She saved you!” Bucky exclaimed, looking ready to throw the man up against the wall yet again, but Steve held him back with a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“You could show some gratitude,” Steve said scoldingly, “But right now we need to focus on getting her back.”

The scientist scoffed. “Good luck with that. It’s not like she was sent just anywhere. She was sent through time. For all we know, she’s been dead for decades, or even centuries –”

                Bucky had to resist the urge to attack this man while Maria stepped up beside Steve, hands on her hips.

                “If so, you just cost me one of my best agents, and I’d be more than happy to lock you up,” she said coldly, “You won’t be doing anymore experiments in a cell.”

                That got a reaction out of him at last. The scientist froze, seized by panic. “I – I suppose I could – perhaps repair the machine – and one of you might be able to get her back.”

                “That’s what I like to hear,” Maria said, although Bucky was hardly relieved. “You have three days.”

                “Three days?” the scientist said incredulously, “But that’s –”

                “Plenty of time,” Maria said, shutting him up with a glare.

                Steve hadn’t taken his hand off of Bucky’s shoulder, and Sam took place at his other side with his arms crossed. “We’ll get her back, man,” Sam said, bumping him lightly with his elbow.

                Bucky stared at the machine, trying to ignore the looming sense of dread in the pit of his stomach.

 

                Natasha came to in a dirty alleyway, a discarded newspaper beside her. She groaned as she pushed herself to her knees, rubbing the back of her aching neck. How long she’d been knocked out, she had no idea, but she was relieved at least to see a car driving by on the road ahead of her – an old car, but a car nonetheless. At least she hadn’t been shot back to the time of the dinosaurs or anything.

                She reached for the newspaper, scanning it for the date.

                Her eyes widened when she found it; February, 1943.

                “Shit,” she said under her breath.

                Getting to her feet, she stared around her – she would have a hard time blending in in the 1940s wearing a skin tight tacsuit. She could maybe get away with a hair bun, though she knew that wasn’t generally the style back then – but a tacsuit?

                She peered around the corner – no one seemed to notice her, thankfully, and she was definitely between apartment buildings. When there was no one around to see, she took her opportunity to sneak into the building to her left.

                Some poor woman was going to be missing a dress, and a few hairpins, but Natasha couldn’t be too bothered. She didn’t have much other choice, did she?

                When she emerged onto the street again, she looked like any other woman – or at least, how she imagined. She hadn’t been in America in the 1940s, so she was mostly going off of pictures and old movies.

                It might have been almost exciting if it wasn’t so… inconvenient.

                There was no way she was going to be able to build a time machine to bring herself back to 2017. She was able to determine that right away – even if she could find a scientist willing to mess around with it, she didn’t know enough about the machine to figure out how any of it worked. She could try to figure it out herself, but there was no telling how long that might take, or how she might change the future in the process.

                For a moment she considered talking to Howard Stark about it – he was supposed to be a genius, after all, and from what she’d heard he wouldn’t be too difficult to sway – but, aside from being way too uncomfortable to explain to Tony in the future, it could risk changing too much anyway.

                She’d have to settle for leaving clues for the future to find, and as much as she hated that plan, there weren’t very many other options. She would have to trust that they would figure out how to work the damn time machine, soon.

                The newspaper, at least, would be a good place to start.

                Although the roads were over seventy years younger, Natasha had a vague sense of where in the city she was, and she’d begun walking when she saw, across the street from her, a face that froze her where she stood.

                God, he looked so young.

                James – a smaller, thinner version – was making his way in the opposite direction, with two other young men she didn’t recognize, a cigarette in hand. He was smiling so brightly – she didn’t think she’d ever seen him smiling like that before – and there was a bounce in his step as the group of them walked, laughing together about something she hadn’t heard.

                Natasha realized she was staring and started walking again, keeping them in her peripherals as they passed her, and then turning around and following once she was behind them. They weren’t paying attention – too caught up in their own conversation to notice her, she supposed.

                It was sort of nice not to be noticed – she just wanted to watch, for a moment. She had never seen him before HYDRA changed him forever.

                A little voice in the back of her head told her to turn back around and not look back, but…

                He was so young, and she was so curious.

                Against her better judgment, she followed them. The newspaper could wait a little while longer – she had all the time in the world, didn’t she?

                Ten minutes of walking later, the streets had crowded in a way much more familiar to her, but she still kept the men in her sight, watching as they slipped into a building amidst a mass of people. Music poured out of the open door, old big band music that Natasha didn’t quite recognize, and as she stepped inside the energy of the room brought her to an amazed pause.

                Couples swung across the dancefloor, smiling and laughing as the music moved them. Skirts of every color twirling as their partners spun them around. Those who weren’t dancing were watching, clapping along, just as content to be off the dancefloor.

                Natasha had been to swing dances before, unofficially. She had taken James to a jazz festival once, where couples danced barefoot around a fountain with a band set up playing covers of Glenn Miller and Benny Goodman. But that had nothing on this, the real thing.

                She was so caught up in the moment that she completely lost track of where James was, and as she came to her sense she realized she couldn’t spot him anywhere in the crowd.

                “Excuse me, ma’am?”

                Well, that explained it.

                Natasha turned, and behind her stood James, looking at her with the same expression he gives her when he thinks he’s being cute.

                He was kind of cute.

                “I’m sorry to bother you,” he said sweetly, “But I couldn’t help but see you standing over here and think that it must be a crime to leave a pretty girl like you without a partner.”

                Natasha bit back a smirk. “And you think you’re up to the job?”

                He grinned, and bowed his head a little, as if to show that he was sincere. “Ma’am,” he said, “It would truly be my honor.”

                “This how you greet all the girls you meet, or am I just lucky?” Natasha asked, crossing her arms over her chest. She knew she should stop – but she was having so much fun with this, and what harm could it really cause, anyway?

                “I think I’m the lucky one,” he said, and offered his hand. “Care to dance?”

                She knew she shouldn’t say yes – she knew she should make up some lie, like she was waiting for a date, or even that she just wasn’t interested – but, well… when was she ever going to get the chance to dance along to a real big band, in a real ballroom, with her boyfriend again?

                “I guess I wouldn’t mind one dance,” she said, taking his hand cautiously, although she added with a smirk, “If you think you can keep up.”

                He laughed at that, and they walked out onto the dancefloor together. James shot a smile towards someone in the crowd, and she followed his gaze to see a much smaller but very recognizable Steve Rogers watching them from the bar.

                Natasha almost couldn’t believe her eyes, but she didn’t have much time to look as the next song began and James pulled her into the dance.

                He started off with simple steps, as if testing how much she knew. Natasha matched him easily, and soon enough they were spinning and twirling around the room like two experts, like they’d been doing this their entire lives. He spun her into him under his arm, and before she twirled away she gave him a wink.

                The smile at his lips was sign enough that he saw it.

                One dance turned into another, and another. They couldn’t seem to stop, only catching their breath between songs and then starting up again. Only when they were both exhausted did he finally lead her off of the dancefloor and to the bar, ordering drinks for the both of them.

                “You’re really good,” he said as he turned back to her, leaning against the bar.

                “You’re not so bad yourself,” Natasha said, taking a seat on the stool beside him.

                He grinned. “I never caught your name.”

                “It’s – Betty,” she lied.

                He didn’t notice. “James Barnes,” he said, “My friends call me Bucky.”

                “Oh, are we friends now?” she asked. The bartender set their drinks down, and she took a sip of hers.

                “Well, I think I’d sure like to be,” James said with a laugh, taking his drink as well. His blue eyes flicked around the room as he sipped, and his carefree expression suddenly switched into one of concern.

                “Something wrong?” Natasha asked.

                “Just – my friend’s gone,” he said, setting his drink down again, “He was here a minute ago, I know I saw him.”

                “Who?” she asked, although she had a feeling she knew who as she turned in her chair and realized that Steve had disappeared.

                “Oh, he’s…” Bucky held up a hand to indicate Steve’s height, but seemed to be struggling to find words as he stood up. “…Blond.”

                Natasha could see how worried he was – James had told her more than once of Steve’s tendencies to wander off and get himself into a fight he couldn’t win. Something told her this was one of those times, and from the look on his face, she was certain James was thinking the same thing. “We could go looking for him.”

                “He might be outside,” James said, pulling some money from his pocket and setting it on the bar to pay for the drinks. “Stay right here, alright?”

                “What, and let you have all the fun?” she asked, following closely behind him as he took off through the crowd. He didn’t seem to notice – too intent on finding his friend.

                Outside, it had gotten dark, and the air was cold enough to see her breath under the light of the street lamps. James looked around for a moment, and then they both heard what sounded like a grunt of pain. He rushed around the corner, Natasha following closely behind him, into an alley, at the end of which were three men cheering on another as he repeatedly punched Steve in the face.

                “Oh, no,” James said, not hesitating to go after him.

                Natasha was quick to follow.

                “Hey!” he shouted, and pushed past the other men to get to Steve’s attacker. They stumbled out of the way with annoyed shouts as James grabbed a fistful of the man’s shirt and dragged him off of Steve, throwing him back against the wall. “That’s enough.”

                “Dammit, Buck, I was about to make my comeback,” Steve said, turning his head to spit a mouthful of blood onto the concrete.

                “Sure you were,” James said as Steve’s attacker straightened himself up again.

                He caught a glimpse of Natasha behind them and sneered. “Aw, you brought backup, did you?” he said, his voice taunting, “Or maybe you just thought I wouldn’t wanna fight in front of a dame.”

                Natasha raised an eyebrow at him. “Excuse me?”

                He grinned at her. “Go back inside and let the men work this one out, sweetheart.”

                James seemed ready to pounce, but Natasha stepped in between them, holding up a hand to stop him. He and Steve were looking at her in surprise as she smiled sweetly at the man – and then punched him square on the nose.

                “Ow!” he cried, his head shooting back and smacking against the wall. His hand shot up to his nose and came away splotched with blood, and he glared at Natasha as he scrambled to get by her to the safety of his friends. “You’re crazy!” he yelled as the four of them rushed out of the alley.

                “What? The ‘dame’ fight too well for you?” she shouted after them as they disappeared around the corner. When she turned, James was covering his mouth with a hand in order to stifle his laughter, and Steve wasn’t bothering to hide his amusement.

                “Nice,” James said, nodding in approval, “I knew there was something I liked about you.”

                Natasha smiled to herself before turning to Steve. “Are you alright?”

                “I’ve had worse,” Steve said, wiping his bloody nose on the back of his hand.

                “Betty,” James said, “This is my friend, Steve Rogers. Steve, this is Betty.”

                “Sorry to meet you this way, Betty,” Steve said politely, pinching his nose. “You’ve got a pretty good punch, you know that?”

                “Very impressive,” James agreed.

                “Do you need anything?” Natasha asked Steve, wincing as he moved his hand away and blood began to pour out of his nose again.

                “You don’t need to do anything,” James said, waving her off as he placed a hand on Steve’s thin shoulder. “I’m gonna bring him home.”

                “Oh,” Natasha said, a little too much disappointment seeping through.

                James heard it, and looked over at her again. “Hey,” he said, “D’ya think I could see you again? Feels like our evening was cut a little short.”

                The voice in Natasha’s head told her to say no, that she was leaving town, or she had work to do, or anything – but she didn’t want to say goodbye to him just yet, and he was looking at her so sweetly… “You know,” she said, “I’m new to the city – maybe you could show me around?”

                It wasn’t technically a lie – she had never seen New York quite like this before, after all.

                “Oh, yeah,” James said, beaming at her, “That’d be great – I’d love to.”

                Despite the voice in her head reminding her how stupid this was, she smiled back.

 

                James met her for lunch the next day – she spent the night in an empty apartment, exchanged the stolen dress she’d worn the day before for a different one out of the same poor woman’s closet, and made a stop by the Times before meeting him in front of the ballroom. They walked together to a restaurant for lunch, where James claimed the best milkshakes in the world were made – and really, they were pretty good.

                He showed her everything. The city wasn’t how she remembered it, but it was his world, his New York City, where he and Steve had grown up together. He showed her Central Park, and the zoo, and bought her a cotton candy to eat as they walked. Even though everything was older, she felt like she was seeing a new city completely.

                Once they’d finished off the cotton candy, he linked his arm with hers.

                “Hey,” he said, “There’s supposed to be this pretty good movie out right now. It’s the last weekend, I think. Wanna see it?”

                “What movie?” Natasha asked, letting herself be drawn closer to his side. It was February – she could pretend it was only because of the cold.

                “Uh, Casablanca, I think it’s called?” James said, “I don’t remember exactly – it came out while I was training in Wisconsin.”

                “Dear god, why?” she said with a laugh.

                “Winter training,” he said, and leaned in a little closer. “You wouldn’t believe how cold it gets there!”

                Natasha smirked. “I might have an idea.”

                He gestured to the side, and they walked into the theater together.

                Natasha had seen Casablanca before – in fact, she honestly loved it – and as they sat down she couldn’t seem to stop smiling at the thought of seeing it with James. But as the news reels started, and images of the war effort played out on the screen before them, the smile began to slip away, reality setting back in.

                The movie was as wonderful as she remembered it. He took her hand halfway through, and didn’t let it go again, even as the movie ended and they shuffled their way back into the street.

                “I’ve got one last thing to show you,” he said, “If you’re alright with that.”

                “Yeah, okay,” she said, although she felt suddenly drained. She wanted to go home and crawl into her bed, with her James, and let him hold her while she fell asleep. Maybe she’d stay there, forever, in his arms.

                That would drive her nuts eventually, but the thought made her smile.

                They kept walking a little farther until they, at last, they reached Time’s Square. It wasn’t the same magnificent spectacle she remembered from her own time, but it was somehow still beautiful. The lights shined in Bucky’s eyes as he beamed at her, gesturing towards it all. “This is it,” he said, “Time’s Square. Pretty great, huh?”

                Natasha stared around her. “Yeah,” she said with a soft laugh, “It really is.”

                She realized after a moment that James hadn’t taken his eyes off of her.

                Slowly, as if drawn to each other by an invisible force, they leaned together until their lips touched. She let go of his hand to clasp them both behind his neck, and his arms snaked around her waist, lifting her up onto her tiptoes. She was vaguely aware that people were looking at them – but for a moment, Natasha lost herself in the kiss.

                All at once she snapped out of it, and her hands moved to his shoulders to gently push him back. She turned her face aside, feeling his lips drag across her cheek as he didn’t pull back quite quickly enough.

                “Betty?” he asked, the concern in his voice sounding genuine. “Is everything alright?”

                “I’m sorry,” she said, “I need to go.”

                “Do you want me to walk you home?” James asked.

                “No, I’ll be alright,” Natasha said, separating herself from him and smoothing out the front of her dress. “I just – I should’ve been honest with you. I’m not staying.”

                He looked like a kicked puppy. “You’re leaving New York?”

                “Yes.”

                “Maybe – could I write to you?”

                “I don’t think so,” Natasha said, unable to look at him. “It’s – it’s kind of complicated. But since I’m going away, and you’re going to war, I just…”

                The mention of the war seemed to bring him back to his senses as well, and he stuffed his hands into his pockets and looked down at his feet. “Oh.”

                Natasha bit her lip to fight back a sudden wave of emotion – ridiculous, stupid, overwhelming emotion. She’d known from the beginning she couldn’t stay with him, that she had to go home. This wasn’t her James, after all – this was a Bucky Barnes she never knew, a man who died long before her James came into her life.

                But he had no idea what was coming. She hadn’t anticipated that he would be so full of joy and life, and so innocent and naïve. She hadn’t anticipated sitting with him in a theater while the new reels showed what he could look forward to in the not so distant future, the future she knew about. He had no idea how much this war was going to change him.

                She couldn’t stand it.

                At last he looked at once more. “Will I see you again?”

                Natasha took a breath to steady her voice. “Someday, I’m sure,” she said, “After the war.”

                The future could handle her telling him that much – especially when it made him smile so brightly.

                “Are you sure you don’t want me to take you home?” he said, “Or, wherever you’re staying? Or I could try to catch a taxi for you – we did a lot of walking today –”

                “I’ll be alright,” Natasha insisted, “Tell Steve I said hello, would you?”

                “Of course,” he said, and as she turned to leave he called after her, “Goodbye, Betty.”

                She only turned for a moment longer to wave goodbye, struggling to keep her smile from quivering.

 

                Bucky and Sam had been searching every newspaper for any type of clue Natasha might have left – if she had been lucky enough to be dropped off in a time with newspapers. It had occurred to Bucky more than once that she might not have been so lucky, but he tried not to think about the possibility too long.

                On the third day Natasha had been gone, Hill gave him a call to let him know her scientists had gotten the machine working again. By the time Bucky arrived in the lab, they were caught up in the middle of an argument over who would use the machine to go after her.

                He would’ve offered himself up, but he hadn’t gotten more than a few hours of sleep since she disappeared, and he wasn’t really in the mood to be told no.

                “It doesn’t matter if we don’t know where she was sent,” Clint said at last, and Bucky turned around to look at him. Clint was staring right back at him. “You didn’t find anything?”

                He shook his head, pinching the bridge of his nose. “We didn’t even know where to start. She could’ve left us clues that we just didn’t think of. I don’t know.”

                “There’s no way to know where the machine would’ve sent her before?” Hill asked the head scientist, who shook his head.

                “If there was, we would’ve found my lost colleagues by now,” he said.

                “Hang on,” Bucky said, moving to stand behind one of the computers, “I might have an idea.”

                “That’s more than the rest of us have,” Steve said, moving to stand behind him as Bucky typed something into the search bar. “Zvezda moya?”

                “It means ‘my star.’ She used to call me that a lot,” Bucky explained, rubbing his temple as the results came up short, “Still does sometimes.”

                “Well, why would it be in Russian?” Sam asked.

                “Because that’s what she called me in Russia?” Bucky said, shooting him a confused look.

                “Sure, in Russia, but whenever she is, she’s probably in New York, right?” Sam said, standing behind Bucky and beside Steve. “So maybe she’d say it in English.”

                Bucky blinked. Then he began furiously typing into the search bar again. “I’m an idiot,” he said, selecting the first result, “There it is. ‘I’m here, my star.’ February 26th, 1943.”

                The scientist turned a few dials on the new and improved machine. “Done – now, who will be going after her?”

                “We can’t,” Steve said, “We can’t risk going and being recognized – or worse, bumping into ourselves.”

                “I’ll do it,” Clint said, stepping up to the machine, “She’s my best friend, I’ll go get her.”

                “Put this on,” said the scientist, holding up what looked like a sort of watch. “When you find her, just press this button on the side and it’ll bring you back here. Understand?”

                “Sounds easy enough,” Clint said, attaching the watch to his wrist.

                Steve settled a hand on Bucky’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. “Don’t worry, Bucky,” he said, “Barton’s gonna find her.”

                The machine started up, and within a moment Clint was gone.

                Bucky sighed, wiping a hand over his face. “I sure hope so.”

 

                Clint wasn’t exactly dressed for the 1940s – when were t-shirts invented? – but when he landed in an alleyway in 1943, he couldn’t find the energy to care all that much about a few people seeing him in weird clothes.

                “You seen a redhead about this tall at all in the last couple days?” he asked the first person he saw, indicating below his shoulders. The man shook his head, making no attempt to hide his confusion with Clint’s outfit before hurrying away.

                This occurred again, and again, until he caught someone by the arm to ask if they had seen her – and there she was, turning around the corner.

                “Well aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” he said, letting go of the stranger’s arm, who quickly ran away and didn’t look back.

                Natasha turned to look at him – she looked about ready to burst into tears, which was something Clint could honestly say he hadn’t seen too often with her, and he didn’t like seeing if he could avoid it.

                “Hey,” he said as she rushed to meet him, “What’s all that about? Thought you were supposed to be tough as nails or some shit.”

                “Shut up,” she said, punching his arm before throwing her arms around him.

                “It’s good to see you, too, Tasha,” Clint said, hugging her back with a little smile. “You ready to go home?”

                “You have no idea,” she said, and he pressed the button on the watch and let the world speed by around them.

 

                Natasha had barely reoriented herself when she was nearly tackled to the ground.

                “Nat!” a familiar voice said in her ear, following by several frantic kisses to her head and face. “I thought – for a minute there, I thought –”

                “Whatever you thought, it was wrong,” Natasha said, having recovered from the initial shock enough to wrap James up in her arms.

“Look at you,” he said, pulling back only enough to look at the 1940s disguise she’d stolen straight out of someone’s closet. He was smiling – not quite like he had in Time’s Square, but like her James always smiled. “Not gonna lie, I kinda like it.”

“Stop that,” Natasha said with a laugh, “How long was I gone?”

                “A few days,” he said, finding a particular spot on her temple and kissing it over and over. “Felt like forever.”

                “Get a room,” Sam called from behind them, but they hardly even noticed.

 

                “You know, if you wanted to keep the outfit, I wouldn’t be opposed,” Bucky said, sitting on the bed as he watched Natasha change into her pajamas.

                “Maybe if you’re lucky,” Natasha said, smirking at him. She pulled on a t-shirt and folded the old clothes, setting them on top of her dresser. She’d figure out something to do with them, but for now, she was exhausted.

                And, she was owed a nap.

                She excused herself for a moment to brush her teeth, and while Bucky waited his phone buzzed on the end table. He almost dreaded looking at it, only to find a text from Steve with a picture attachment and a message reading, “You’ll want to see this.”

                Bucky opened the attachment, and grinned to find an old photograph – he had no idea where Steve must’ve found it – of himself and Natasha, dancing in a crowded ballroom in 1943. They weren’t the focus of the photograph, but it was definitely them in it.

                He couldn’t believe he’d forgotten.

                “Alright,” Natasha said, coming out of the bathroom and immediately climbing into bed beside him. “Wake me up in a week or so.”

                Bucky chuckled, reaching to turn off the light. When he settled back down he leaned over and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead.

                “Hey, Nat?” he murmured, brushing the hair out of her face.

                “Hmm?”

                He kissed her again, and she curled up against his chest. “I’m really glad your home.”

                She smiled in her sleep.


End file.
